Gorilla Republic: Deutschland: Part 12

1st January 2025

Over an Andalusian dinner on the small dinner table, Odria detailed the plan to cross the borders and reach Munich, which the reviewed extensively, exploring alternatives and backup plans. It would take several days of hard driving, three to four, by her estimation. Their first stop was Valencia.

The improved motorways gave Odria a chance to showcase her exceptional driving skills. Her passion for cars, high-speed journeys, and a touch of danger was evident in every manoeuvre. She was deliberate in every action. To pass the time, she attempted to make conversation with her passengers, but was met with monosyllabic 'yes' and 'no' responses or overpowering silence. Undeterred, she filled the void with stories about their surroundings, occasionally touching on Morocco and influences between both countries. However, she had learnt very little about Ilha de Florença. When her self-commentary became tiresome, she tuned into Radio Nacional, which broadcasted news and music. Their stops were brief, just for petrol, refreshments, and facilities.

Outside Murcia, they encountered their first police roadblock. The Guardia Civil were sharp and barked orders at Odria, who remained composed. Mapacha exercised the near impossible feat of remaining calm, and Banou, rattled, breathed slightly heavier in near panic. Odria stepped out of the car and, in passable Spanish, explained they were en route to Valencia.

"Estos son paletos del campo que se han fugado. No tienen papeles, (These are country bumpkins who’ve eloped. They have no papers,)" she explained casually.

The officer seemed unconvinced and shone his torch into the car, first on Mapacha, then Banou. He led Odria to the back and tapped on the boot.

"Merda, minha arma! ("Shit, my gun!”)," Banou hissed inside the cabin, her voice taut.

Mapacha's nostrils flared as he stiffened, his hand instinctively moving towards his own weapon, ready for the worst. At the rear of the car, Odria watched as the officer lazily prodded the two worn military bags with his baton. After a tense pause, he turned to Odria, studying her for a moment before bursting into a crowing snigger.

"Oye, Marroquí, tienes cigarrillos encima? (Hey, Moroccan, got any cigarettes?)" he asked.

Odria had been waiting for this. Calmly, like a seasoned magician, she produced an unopened pack of Marlboro Reds and handed it to him. The officer relaxed and smiled as he reached for the pack.

"De acuerdo, dale (Alright, go on,)," he said, waving her off, seemingly uninterested in this whole affair.

Without hesitation, Odria climbed back into the car, fired it up, and sped away from the roadblock. As the checkpoint's lights faded into the distance, Banou broke the silence.

"What happened? Did he search our things?"

"No, he was just wasting our time. I gave him a pack of cigarettes to leave us alone," Odria replied matter-of-factly.

Mapacha was sceptical. Was it really that simple? Could the Spanish Guardia be so corrupt? After a moment of reflection, he dismissed the thought and focused on the road ahead. Odria pressed north towards Valencia. A few stops later, they arrived at the city, its lights pulling them in. After refuelling and a brief pause for refreshments, they resumed their journey. Over the following hours, they traversed eastern Spain, past Barcelona, only stopping near Girona at a small hotel by the highway to rest.

The next night, they resumed their trek. Odria navigated the hilly terrain past Espolla, winding through vineyards, cacti, and shrubbery. They eventually reached the small border town of Col de Banyuls.

"Welcome to République Française," she declared.

Confidently, she drove on. They passed Béziers, Montpellier, and Nîmes, cut through Valence, continued to Vachères, and eventually reached Bellemin. From there, they took the road to Annecy, crossed to Saint-Julien-en-Genevois, and turned onto a narrow country lane. Half an hour later, they emerged near the route to Geneva. Odria skirted the city and pushed onward to Bern, where they stopped at another modest hotel.

The following night, they bypassed Zurich, passed through St. Gallen and Altrach crossed into Austria and entered West Germany. In approaching daylight, Munich finally emerged over the horizon. Within the city limits, Odria tempered her speed, blending seamlessly into the morning traffic. As they navigated the Mittlerer Ring, Mapacha and Banou gazed at the city in awe. The multi-lane roads and modern infrastructure surpassed anything Mapacha had imagined.

Munich, a city of 1.3 million, had shed the scars of war and embraced a multicultural future. Its vibrant culture attracted people from the countryside, other nations, and East Germany. While Mapacha marvelled at the city, he remained unaware of the recent tragedy, a terrorist attack at Munich-Riem Airport, that had left the city on high alert. Odria, fully aware, chose not to mention it, focusing instead on navigating the ring road.

They arrived in Sendling, stopping outside Tegernseer Landstraße 17, the Hotel Giesing.

"We are here. Makhlouf told me to book you in," Odria announced, shutting off the Giulia with finality.

They stepped out, retrieved their bags, and followed her into the hotel lobby. The space was luxurious, with polished marble floors, velvet drapes framing tall windows, and elegantly upholstered furniture. Banou noted the opulence and her mind was momentarily distracted. At the reception desk, Odria switched effortlessly to German.

"Hallo, haben Sie eine Reservierung für Odria Mahraz? (Hello, do you have a reservation for Odria Mahraz?)" she asked.

The receptionist, momentarily surprised by Odria’s fluency, checked the ledger. So was Mapacha, who realised that Odria was a polygot, a fact his mind filed away for later review.

"Ja, Fraulein Mahraz, zwei Zimmer. Könnte ich bitte Ihren Pass haben? (Yes, Miss Mahraz, two rooms. May I see your passport?)"

Odria handed over her French passport. After some formalities, she paid, surprising Mapacha with the thick wad of Deutsche Marks she carried.

The rooms were adjoining, modest yet cosy, with Bavarian-style wooden furniture and floral decor. Mapacha inspected his space and was satisfied with its comfort. Ten minutes later, he joined Banou and Odria.

"Makhlouf instructed me to deliver you here," Odria explained. "Tomorrow, there will be an envelope for you at reception with everything you need. If things get complicated, call this number."

She handed Banou a slip of paper and the remaining cash.

"This should cover your expenses. If you need more, let me know."

That was that. Odria left swiftly, leaving Banou overwhelmed.

"What now?" she asked Mapacha.

"As simple as Odria makes it sound, we are in a complicated situation," he replied.

Defeated, Banou sighed, guilt enveloping her.

"I did not think it would be this messy."

"Rest first," Mapacha advised. "We will figure things out later."

Banou handed him the cash without hesitation, a gesture that underscored her unease. Mapacha pocketed the money and returned to his room, where exhaustion soon claimed him.